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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27903181">Run Away (From Happily Ever Afters)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankenbolt/pseuds/frankenbolt'>frankenbolt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rik Mayall Presents: Dancing Queen (1993)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Happily Ever After?, Subtle Femdom, Vomiting, deconstructing the manic pixie dream girl cliche, niche fandom alert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:00:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27903181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankenbolt/pseuds/frankenbolt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Neil tries to come to terms with what happens the morning after "Happily Ever After".</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neil/Julie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Run Away (From Happily Ever Afters)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"Rik Mayall Presents" was a mini series of hour long movies that aired it's first season in 1993. Some bright spark at ITV got the crazy idea in their head to see if Rik Mayall, one of the most energetic, vibrant and the biggest star of the Alternative Comedy scene, could be a serious actor.</p>
<p>And. Of course he fucking could. And thank god we have the proof right here, in this mini-series.</p>
<p>Dancing Queen is the crown jewel in a stella first season of Tv movies. It's tight, it's well written and it's just so heartwarmingly good. </p>
<p>I implore you to watch it, if you've stumbled in here looking for more Drop Dead Fred or The Young Ones fanfic from me.</p>
<p>This fic deals with the immediate aftermath of the movie, so I'd jolly well hope you DO go treat yourself and see the movie first.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil hadn’t considered whatever happened after you get your fairy tale ending.</p>
<p>Of course, when he examined that statement for more than a second he realised how harsh that seemed in hindsight. Sure, his wife...well. Ex-fiance? Ex, his muddled brain firmly decided for him, the accompanying swooping feeling of nausea causing him to double over.</p>
<p>Fine then, his Ex. Sophie. She hadn’t been some awful monster. He didn’t have any evidence that she and his...ex-best-man-friend-person...Nigel (his brain again firmly stated, as the cold tile bit into his bare knees) that they were an...item.</p>
<p>Only that Sophie had consistently compared the two of them throughout their courtship and her insipid little comments in her bedroom as they broke off their engagement (first and last time he’d ever managed to get in that wood panelled room, his brain again firmly snapped at him as he contemplated the toilet bowl) were the last straw.</p>
<p>But she wasn’t some witch. He still had quite a few pleasant memories of her. She’d even met his mother.</p>
<p>Neil wretched, a swell of anxiety and too much alcohol gurgling up and threatening to spill out of his gullet as he contemplated what would happen when he finally had to ring his Mother and tell her that her only son wasn’t getting married.</p>
<p>She’d been so happy.</p>
<p>Specks of light burst behind his eyes as his head ducked and the freedom of a happily ever after spilled into the hotel toilet.</p>
<p>He didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Didn’t hear the gritty whirr of electricity as the fluorescent bulb clicked on over head. But Neil did feel cool hands wiping his forehead, and the quiet cooing of a soft northern voice.</p>
<p>“Christs sake Neil, you do get yerself into some messes don’t ya lad?”</p>
<p>Julie waited until she was sure he was empty, and his mind giggled hysterically at the idea of comparing himself to some sort of container, then sat him with his back against the mercifully cool bathroom wall.</p>
<p>She swam in front of his vision, patient brown eyes peering at him beneath the sweat dampened hair plastered against his forehead. </p>
<p>“Shoulda known you’d be a lightweight.”</p>
<p>A dimly ringing alarm bell rang in the muddled mire that was Neil’s brain.<br/>“And I didn’t even drug ya, like that pillock of best man of yours.” Julie clucked and gently helped him to stand, cool hands guiding him to their bed. The alarm bell thankfully stopped ringing. </p>
<p>Neil attempted to thank her, but all that came out was a low whine as he curled over on his side and groaned into the hotel sheets.</p>
<p>“You’re welcome, chuck.”</p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>When Neil woke up the next morning he contemplated fairytale endings again.</p>
<p>Morning being more of a situational paradox. Could it be morning if the world started in a downpour of rain and that rain continued into the late afternoon? How would one tell if it was morning if there wasn’t a clock in the room and you didn’t have a watch anymore?</p>
<p>He finally worked out that it officially wasn’t the morning when he and Julie arrived at the cafe across the road from the hotel and they’d stopped serving breakfast.</p>
<p>Julie had fiercely debated what constituted the difference between breakfasts’ “Egg, Beans, Fried Tomatoes and Chips” and lunch times’ “Chips, Beans, Sausage and Egg with a side of Fried Mushrooms” with the owner of the cafe until she’d noticed that he’d been wavering on his feet beside her.</p>
<p>She’d ushered him into a seat and ordered for him.</p>
<p>Which was how Neil came back around to fairytale endings.</p>
<p>“Do you believe in happily ever after?” Neil finally asked Julie.</p>
<p>She’d fixed him with a raised eyebrow and those big brown eyes and flatly responded. </p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>Julie snorted and continued shovelling chips into her mouth. “S’not realistic.” She gulped down a swig of diet coke and continued. “I’m not a princess to be saved. Nor am I a fuckin’ solution to your problems.”</p>
<p>Neil felt that swell of anxiety welling up behind his gullet again. “Oh.”</p>
<p>“Let’s put it this way.” She dusted the salt from her finger tips off on her jeans. “You just ran out on yer weddin’ day-”</p>
<p>“Well technically it wasn’t my fault-”</p>
<p>Julie waved this aside. “Yeah yeah, I know. Anyway. You just avoided gettin’ hitched to a woman you weren’t one hundred percent in love with- an’ don’t start defendin’ her ‘onor or anything Neil, cause if you were, you’d have tried harder to stay with her.”</p>
<p>Neil nodded meekly.</p>
<p>“So you run off. Not tellin’ your family were you’ve gone. Not tellin’ your job you’re skiving off instead of goin’ on your honeymoon. And let’s say you go back home, and you’ve got me.” She gestured to herself. Neil noticed a streak of ketchup on her cheek.</p>
<p>“You’ve got me.” Julie smiled and he knew then that he did. He did indeed have her. “You’ve got me in tow. Mouthy little northern stripper. On your arm.” She steepled her hands and rested her chin on her fingertips. “What’s your Mum going to say?”</p>
<p>Neil blinked. This was echoing his thought process from the night before.</p>
<p>“I...uh. Well I…”</p>
<p>Julie nodded matter of factly. “Exactly. So the ways I see it- your Sophie episode is over. Now begins the ‘New Neil” episode.”</p>
<p>“And it’s really that simple?” Neil’s brow was furrowed. “We-”</p>
<p>“No, Neil. You.” Julie’s interruption was firm. “You. Not we.”</p>
<p>He felt his lip quiver ever so slightly. “Ok. I, then. I simply...what? Start a fresh? Sophie’s done and dusted and neatly squared away?”</p>
<p>Julie’s eyebrow arched. “Of course not. You can’t just erase your time with her. No more than I can forget my pillock of an ex husband. You need time.”</p>
<p>Startled, he considered this. Time. He’d never taken the time to do anything of any sort of emotional capacity before. He’d gone from boarding school, to prep school, to university, to work with very little preamble. He’d spent any little spare time alone between each institution doing charity or volunteer work. Holidays at home spent with the cadets or fundraising for his father’s foundations.</p>
<p>Had he ever really had time before?<br/>He supposed he did now. He watched as Julie stood and bussed their plates herself, errant salt clinging to her snugly fit jeans. </p>
<p>Having so much time...was rather overwhelming. He reached up to scrub dazedly at his eyes, the fluorescent bulbs illuminating the cafe stinging. He felt a cool hand affectionately sweep his hair away from his face and peered up between his fingers at Julie.</p>
<p>She was smiling patiently at him. “...What do you want to do first?”</p>
<p>There was a beat where he wasn’t sure if he should say, a lifetime of suppressing his own wants and desires curdling thickly in his chest, before finally Neil mustered the courage to say:</p>
<p>“I think I want to go back to bed.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Stay Tuned...</p></blockquote></div></div>
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